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POEMS 


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POEMS 


By 
STEWART  MITCHELL 


NEW  YORK 

DUFF1ELD  &  CO. 
1921 


Copyright,  1921,  by 
STEWART  MITCHELL 


Printed  in  U.  S.  A. 


To 
MRS.  DANIEL  HENRY  HOLMES 


a  €t  A 

H  t  •* 


4381 


[v] 


ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 

Several  of  these  poems  are  reprinted  from  "Eight  Harvard 
Poets/'  Laurence  J.  Gomme,  New  York,  191 7,  where  they  ap- 
peared in  slightly  different  form.  "A  Fig  Tree,"  "A  Lady," 
"A  Character,"  "Postscript,"  and  "Lorraine,"  are  reprinted  by 
courtesy  of  the  editor  of  "The  Dial." 


[vii] 


CONTENTS 


Astarte:  For  D.  G.  P. 

A  Lady   . 

Postscript 

A  Farewell:  For  E.  E.  C 

A  Puritan 

Vision  of  Life :  For  G.  H. 

Salutation 

In  Memoriam:  For  D.  H 

Dust  and  Shadow :  For  E 

Carnival 

A  Character     . 

China 

A  Crucifix 

A  Theorist:  To  V.  U. 

Sea  Side 

After  Love 

Inscription:  For  E.  M.  S 

Satyricon 

Leopards 

Sea  Mist:  For  S.  W. 

Lucretius 

Prelude    . 

Confessional :  For  M.  S.  M. 

Helen:  For  G.  H.  T. 

Mountain  Laurel 

From  a  Garden        , 


M. 
M.J. 


PAGE 
3 

4 
5 
6 

7 
8 

9 
io 
ii 

12 

13 
14 
15 
16 

17 
18 

19 

20 
21 
22 
23 
24 
25 
26 

29 
32 


[ix 


CONTENTS 


Libation  . 

Invocation 

Starlight 

A  Greek 

Neith 

Autumn  . 

Thalassa 

A  Philosopher 

April  Night 

Elegy       . 

Expectation 

A  Tower 

A  Fig  Tree 

Easter  Dawn 

The  Phoenix 

An  Altar 

Goldenrod 

Ego 

At  "Madam  Butterfly' 

Sea  Burial 

Poppies    . 

Wine 

A  Hero  . 

Oasis 

A  Memory 

Warriors 

Ipswich  Dunes 

Arabian  Nights 

Departure 

Lorraine 

Autumn  Evening 


PAGE 

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38 

41 
42 

44 
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48 
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51 
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59 
61 

63 
64 
66 

67 
68 

7i 
72 
73 
75 
78 
79 
81 
83 
84 
85 


x] 


POEMS 


u] 


ASTARTE 
For  D.  G.  P. 

Poised  on  the  crescent  moon,  she  stands  serene, 
Whose  eyes  from  purple  into  violet  pale, 
As  ever  she  lets  fall  the  drifting  veil 

Clouding  her  beauty  with  its  twilight  sheen; 

Hers  are  grey  breasts  death  laid  his  lips  between 
Lest  ever  any  subtle  lover  quail 
Before  her  kiss,  remembering  life,  and  fail 

To  taste  the  flesh  no  eyes  live,  having  seen. 

Remorseless  to  the  end  of  time,  she  waits 
On  tides  none  other  ears  than  hers  divine, 

Knowing  all  roads  lead  last  unto  the  gates 
That  swing  into  the  silence  of  her  shrine: 

Where  crushed  beneath  her  feet,  once  pitiless  fates, 
Like  sleeping  serpents  round  her  ankles  twine. 


[  3 


A  LADY 

She  follows  men  with  calm,  sagacious  eyes, 
Watching  them  falter,  looking  on  her  smile; 
Gazes  as  never  yet  were  thought  so  vile, 

Or  lust  so  strange  that  she  could  not  surmise; 

Out  of  her  contemplation  seem  to  rise 
Visions  of  vanished  life  no  studied  guile 
Of  love  made  other  than  a  weary  while, 

For  her  whom  sinister  gods  had  wrought  so  wise. 

Standing  before  her  face  men  long  for  sleep 
Lulled  in  the  arms  of  hidden  luxuries: 

Look  as  through  twilight,  feel  the  cool  flesh  creep, 
Sensing  the  touch  of  sudden  mysteries, 

Strip  naked  unto  grey  winds,  and  plunge  steep 
Into  the  shadowed  coil  of  treacherous  seas. 


[4] 


POSTSCRIPT 

— Considering  which,  scuttle  from  dust  and  heat; 
Yet  not  to  thought,  for  ghastly  shapes  lurk  there, 
Octopus-like,  to  snatch  you  by  the  hair — 

Better  the  blinding  road  and  bloody  feet. 

Just  between  truth  and  falsehood,  lies  a  neat 
Scarce  travelled  path,  where  your  imperial  air 
Might  vegetate  in  vacancy,  and  dare 

To  taste  all  passions,  buy  the  best,  and  eat. 

First  of  all  wordly  wise  men  spake  Saint  Paul: 
Diversities  of  gifts  ?    Indeed,  there  are 

All  manner  of  gifts — by  which  men  rise  or  fall. 
Though  neither  good  nor  evil  take  them  far, 

You,  only,  should  thank  God,  for  not  to  all 
A  star  was  given — much  less  so  steady  a  star. 


[  s  1 


A  FAREWELL 
For  E.  E.  C. 

Nay:  by  this  desolate  sea  our  troubled  ways 
Shall  separate  for  ever;  swift  hath  sped 
The  hour  of  youth,  and  yet  to  hang  the  head, 

Lamenting  lost  things  of  departed  days, 

Were  only  from  that  shadow  land  to  raise, 
A  wraith,  that  whispering  of  the  quiet  dead, 
Would  mimic  the  strange  life  of  love;  instead, 

Let  us  relent  and  hail  the  past  with  praise. 

Go,  then;  and  should  inevitable  fate 
Lead  us  at  last  into  a  world,  where  men 
Strive  for  the  laurel  and  applause  no  more, 
Whither  the  soul  takes  silence  for  its  mate, 
There  might  we  meet,  and,  smiling,  once  again 
Clasp  hands   and   part   upon   some  wind-swept 
shore. 

Cambridge. 

[6] 


A  PURITAN 

Ever  toward  morning  looking,  does  she  stand, 
Where  tides  of  trade  and  venture  tireless  beat 
Round  the  firm  sanctuary  of  her  feet, 

Gazing  afar  with  vacant  eyes,  her  bland 

Bronze  lips  unconscious  of  the  lifted  hand 
That  beckons  men  unto  her  judgment  seat, 
Here  where  the  pilgrims  of  all  nations  meet, 

Luring  their  hearts  into  her  promised  land. 

She  will  not  learn  to  love  men  for  their  strange 
Unsteady  ways — forgets  the  brave  are  sprung 

Out  of  men  proud  and  wonderful  to  range 

The  whole  world.    Hope  like  hers  has  never  sung, 

But  mutely  waits  the  old,  false  dawn  of  change: 
With  eyes  that  see  not,  lips  that  lack  their  tongue. 


[7] 


VISION  OF  LIFE 
For  G.  H.  T. 

Who  loves  the  world  is  amorous  of  its  pain, 
Gathers  its  faded  flowers  for  his  own, 
Pale,  fragile  petals  pitiless  winds  have  blown 

Over  the  earth  and  back  to  him  again; 

Deep  in  his  heart  the  desolate  refrain 
Of  them  who  reap  where  other  men  have  sown 
Breaks  in  like  boundless  waters,  as  alone 

He  looks  on  them  who  harvest  the  grey  plain. 

Yet  ever  with  the  night  he  seems  to  see 
Along  the  uplands  warrior  hosts  that  ride 
Like  gods  to  battle  whither  blind  fate  wills; 
Then,  from  a  silence,  hearkens  distantly 

Tumultuous  trumpets  sounding — far  and  wide 
Waving  their  scarlet  splendour  through  the  hills 


SALUTATION 

I  would  that  you  were  here  to-night,  your  eyes, 
Speaking  a  soul  of  mingled  love  and  fear — 
Dread  such  as  even  gods,  they  say,  hold  dear, 

Love  wary  of  each  fortune's  swift  surprise. 

Go  with  me  now,  if  ever :   the  way  lies 
Through  deep,  thick  darkness  where  the  path  drops 

sheer 
Into  the  night  of  life,  whence  we  shall  hear 

Only  confused  and  troubled  voices  rise. 

Yours  be  my  body — of  desires  as  deep 
As  ever  have  been  whispered  of  the  soul; 

Yours,  too,  my  gods :   I  would  have  such  as  keep 
A  ceaseless  vigil,  nor  relax  one  toll 

Of  tribute — nor,  as  better-loved  gods,  sleep, 
For  that  they  have  appointed  each  his  goal. 

Camp  Sheridan,  Alabama. 

[9] 


IN  MEMORIAM 

D.  H.  M. 

Out  of  midsummer  moonlight  at  my  bed 

From  troubled  dreams  I  thought  I  saw  you  rise, 
And  fix  me  with  your  unforgotten  eyes, 

Still  wonderful,  as  when  you  were  not  dead. 

And  though  you  only  smiled  and  turned  your  head 
Against  the  bitter  scorn  of  my  disguise, 
Behind  the  swift  despair  of  your  surmise, 

Pity  more  terrible  than  death  I  read. 

Then  as  you  looked  as  if  to  turn  away, 
Dawn  waited  on  us  from  the  dusk  a  spell 
Lest  you  should  whisper  of  inviolate  things; 
Till  down  the  obscure  twilight  before  day, 
I  heard  upon  the  tide  of  your  farewell 
A  rumour  of  inevitable  wings. 


ho] 


DUST  AND  SHADOW 
For  E.  M.  J. 

All  scattered  souls  she  gleans  unto  her  sheaf, 
Inviolate  death,  grave  deity  of  rest, 
Before  whose  eyes  all  past  deeds  seem  the  best 

That  ever  might  have  been,  though  envious  grief 

Light  her  proud  torch  and  lustrous  in  the  brief 
Still  time  before  the  night  when  fades  the  west 
Toward  where  illimitable  skies  suggest 

Dear  memories  of  beauty  past  belief. 

Even  as  one  to  battle  come  who  stands 
Aloof  a  spell,  beholding  friend  and  foe 

Clashing  in  conflict  till  his  soul  commands 
He  too,  press  on  whither  the  trumpets  blow, 

I  lift  my  eyes  where  over  wasted  lands, 
The  dust  and  shadow  of  life  drift  to  and  fro. 


In] 


CARNIVAL 

So  much  for  our  romance;  where  were  an  end, 
Of  sorrow  for  those  banished  sons  of  earth  ? 
Tears  wait  on  laughter  with  a  sullen  mirth, 

As  all  things  beautiful  on  dust  attend. 

Sunlight  and  shadow  touch  their  hearts  to  blend, 
Into  such  doubtful  dusk  that  any  dearth 
Of  darkness  dooms  the  truant  from  his  birth 

To  penance  against  which  no  hopes  defend. 

Sooner  or  later;  wherefore  with  calm  eyes, 

And  patient  hands,  and  smiling  lips  they  wait, 

Who  do  not  count  themselves  in  glory  wise, 
Nor  serve  their  tribulation  with  their  hate; 

The  very  stars  take  counsel  in  the  skies, 
To  learn  their  orbits  from  the  lips  of  fate. 


[12] 


A  CHARACTER 

Only  reflected  sunlight  reached  that  room, 
Flashing  from  western  windows — counterfeit 
Ever  the  twilight  where  we  two  would  sit 

And  curse  the  common  rout  amid  the  gloom. 

Tall  candles  watched  us,  though  their  scented  bloom 
Glowed  steadily  as  if  their  stolid  wit 
Heard  what  we  said,  not  making  much  of  it, 

Stifling,  like  patient  torches  in  a  tomb. 

Grave  Buddha,  squatting  on  a  home-made  shrine, 
Looked  as  if  never  yet  were  fact  so  odd, 

But  thought  could  make  its  purposes  divine; 
Seemed  to  remember  others  who  would  nod 

Approval  each  to  each  over  their  wine — 

Like  mice  between  the  grey  paws  of  their  god. 


[13] 


CHINA 

Well  may  you  smile  upon  their  pomp  and  power; 

They  come  and  go,  these  conquerors  in  their  pride; 

Long  since  have  you  beheld  such,  tide  on  tide, 
Beat  round  your  baffling  wisdom;  they  shall  lower 
Only  their  moment,  and  you  still  shall  tower 

Over  the  restless  ages,  looking  wide 

Upon  their  thousand  kingdoms  that  have  died — 
Like  Buddha,  throned  upon  his  lotus  flower. 

Long  since  yours  was  the  glory  to  be  strong, 
Yet  for  this  final  peace  of  bended  knees, 

You  have  disowned  your  folly,  and  made  song 
To  Beauty,  out  of  Wisdom's  mysteries, 

As  shall  the  prouder  sons  of  these  who  throng 
Upon  you,  fierce  and  futile  as  the  seas. 


[Hi 


A  CRUCIFIX 

This  was  the  cross  of  God  on  which  men's  eyes 
Dwelt  with  the  love  of  dead  divinity, 
As  they  who  by  the  desolate  orient  sea 

In  battle  made  their  sainted  sacrifice, 

Dreaming  their  boundless  striving  should  devise 
A  symbol  whereby  men  might  know  that  he 
Who  wins  his  way  on  earth  to  victory, 

Thus  in  his  consummated  sorrow  dies. 

All  things  are  sacred  to  that  tender  sight; 

Time's  ancient  altars  whence  strange  incense  curled 
Innocent  to  the  unknown  gods;  the  light 

Of  love  is  thine;  faith's  banner  is  unfurled, 
Even   where   the   farthest   watchmen,    through   the 
night, 

Call  on  the  cloud-wrapped  ramparts  of  the  world. 


[iSl 


A  THEORIST 
To  V.  U. 

They  swarm  about  you  with  strong  speech,  and  guile 
That  strenuous  courage,  only,  can  despise, 
Bred  of  the  silence  of  a  heart  grown  wise 

From  doubt  and  patience  through  the  weary  while 

Their  malice  has  prevailed.    Darkness  and  trial 
Were  bitter  folly  did  their  memory  rise 
To  scorn  the  question  lurking  in  your  eyes, 

Or  cloud  the  sunlight  of  your  sudden  smile. 

Knowing  from  whatsoever  all  things  come 
In  that  they  have  their  ending,  as  their  birth, 

I  marvel  that  you  falter  not,  as  some 
Who  wonder  yet  if  any  deed  be  worth 

The  toil  of  tongues  inevitably  dumb, 
Of  eyelids  heavy  with  avenging  earth. 


[16] 


SEA  SIDE 

You  will  not  let  me  even  touch  your  hair — 
Not  so  much  please  your  jester  and  your  fool. 
Now  that  your  scorn  no  longer  is  the  school 

Of  uncomplaining  prudence  and  despair? 

Yours  is  the  chastity  of  autumn  air 

Blown  like  the  liquid  sunlight,  clear  and  cool, 
Steady  as  calm  eyes  resolute  to  rule 

With  the  brave  deeds  that  other  men  shall  dare. 

The  waters  tremble  where  the  grey  wind  sets 
His  blue  lips  to  the  body  of  the  sea, 

Cloud  over  as  your  face,  now  it  forgets 

Some  vague  pledge  common  between  such  as  we- 

Startled  to  hear  my  tedious  regrets 
That  you  it  was  who  were  the  death  of  me. 


17 


AFTER  LOVE 

Till  love  like  wrath  between  their  spirits  fell 
Their  feet  were  swift  upon  these  hills,  in  haste 
But  to  have  done  with  life — skirting  the  waste 

And  desolate  places  where  no  heart  would  dwell — 

Lest  fate  should  bid  them  falter  for  a  spell 
By  waters  black  and  bitter  to  the  taste, 
They  turned  to  deserts  where  the  winds  effaced 

All  that  the  track  of  vagrant  steps  might  tell. 

Not  always  from  the  chalice  they  would  choose, 
Men  drink  their  last  of  life,  even  they  who  dare 

To  smile  upon  the  cup  they  would  refuse; 

Having  come  thus,  stay  you  with  me,  and  share 

Whatever  love  may  chance  to  gain  or  lose, 
Whatever  reap  of  laughter  or  despair. 


[18] 


INSCRIPTION 
For  E.  M.  S. 

For  memory  of  those  days  when,  side  by  side, 
We  heard  the  sea  winds  thunder  on  the  sea, 
Or,  stretched  on  deck  beneath  the  stars,  would  be 

One  with  their  loneliness,  whilst  far  and  wide 

Grey  moonlight  would  invade  the  violet-skied 
Silence  of  heaven,  even  for  memory 
That  comes  not  with  so  fleet  a  foot — for  me 

Remember  until  life  be  drowsy-eyed. 

Whenever  as  with  winds  shall  come  the  sound 
Of  waters  wakened  at  the  touch  of  dawn 

Whenever  amidst  mountains  you  have  found 
Starlight  and  solitude  to  dwell  upon, 

Wherever  you  shall  go  the  wide  world  round, 
The  memory  of  our  lost  days  will  have  gone. 


[19 


SATYRICON 

So,  too,  were  sunlight  on  the  startled  wings 
Of  gulls  that  stir  and  suddenly  are  gone 
Seaward  to  crowd  the  scarlet  gates  of  dawn 

With  clamour  of  their  plaintive  wanderings. 

Light,  utter  as  the  surf  of  sunrise  flings 

Over  the  shoals  of  stars,  this  day  has  drawn 
The  veil  of  time,  that  Memnon  look  upon 

Night  of  the  morning  unto  which  he  sings. 

Negligent  of  all  dreams  my  spirit  stands 
Forgetting  the  inveterate  feat  that  sped 

These  feet,  unwilling,  into  wasted  lands; 
Watching  grave  eyes  of  laughter  at  the  dead 

Attend  their  eager  lips  with  cautious  hands — 
Outwitting  death  with  poison  in  their  bread. 


20 


LEOPARDS 

Light-footed  leopards,  casual  and  lean, 
Pace  tireless,  prisoned  in  the  loneliest  part 
Of  the  eternal  twilight  of  my  heart 

Where  I  have  stumbled  on  them — felt  their  keen 

Quick  bodies  touch  me,  suddenly  have  seen 
Numberless  narrow  eyes  that  never  dart 
Out  of  the  night  except  my  pulses  start 

For  dread  of  what  their  watchfulness  should  mean. 

That  day — so  have  I  said — when  I  shall  fawn 
Upon  their  supple  strength,  when  they  arise 
To  wait  me  with  their  welcome  of  warm  breath, 
I  shall  no  more  lament — though  the  cool  dawn 
Of  beauty  never  drop  upon  these  eyes — 

Though  my  lips  hunger  for  the  kiss  of  death. 


[21  J 


SEA  MIST 
For  S.  W. 

They  come  down  suddenly,  grey  wings  that  yearn 
To  touch  the  living  waters  of  this  sea 
Yet  hover  and  circle,  dreaming  there  shall  be 

A  time  when  death  shall  yield  them,  to  discern 

Shadow  from  sunlight  once  again — to  burn 
With  the  wine  of  life — its  taste  the  ecstasy 
They  knew  of  old.    Far  through  eternity, 

They  drift — and  wait  against  that  dear  return. 

Theirs  is  the  voice  of  infinite  regret 

That  having  once  seen  love  in  distant  lands, 

They  let  her  vanish,  vainly  would  forget, 

Since  now  their  tardy  wisdom  understands — 

Haunt  these  cold  mists  in  terror,  having  met 
Strange  gods  who  smile  at  supplicating  hands. 

Camp  Sheridan,  Alabama. 

[22] 


LUCRETIUS 

How  ever  should  we  turn  till  passion  cease 
To  lord  its  swaggering  mastery  over  the  brain; 
Till  soul  and  body  are  no  longer  twain, 

But  twined  together  with  one  life  increase, 

Till  out  of  their  embrace  a  proud  release 
Spring  for  the  spirit  from  its  own  disdain, 
Till  pleasure,  gathering  to  her  bosom  pain, 

Come  penitent  at  last  unto  thy  peace  ? 

Far  out  before  and  after  life  extend 
The  pleading  hands  of  unfulfilled  desire, 

Whose  voiceless  protest  shall  not  have  an  end, 
Though  the  remotest  and  last  star  expire; 

Else  what  grave  folly  of  the  gods  portend, 
Beyond  the  stars,  those  flaming  walls  of  fire? 


23 


PRELUDE 

They  weave  against  the  stars  their  silent  ways 
Through  leafage  looped  athwart  the  azure  night, 
Passing  translucent  globes  of  vaulted  light 

From  tender  hand  to  hand — their  wisdom  stays 

The  envious  touch  of  fate  through  halcyon  days, 
Gives  them  to  visions  that  seduce  their  sight 
With  shapes  whose  passing  is  a  radiant  flight, 

Whose  beauty  is  their  own  unstudied  praise. 

Lifting  their  full-lipped  faces  to  the  skies, 

They  fix  the  moon,  shake  their  disheveled  hair 

Back  from  the  gaze  of  fascinated  eyes; 

Falter  a  trice,  as  if  their  dreams  would  share, 

All  pain  of  all  delight  passions  devise, 

Turn  from  no  heart  if  love  but  tarry  there. 


[24] 


CONFESSIONAL 
M.  S.  M. 

Your  love  is  my  sole  comrade :  all  my  ways 
Flower  into  song  beneath  the  thought  of  you, 
I  know  your  touch  in  all  that  I  would  do, 

Even  as  your  image  stands  before  my  praise; 

Yet  oftentimes  a  dumb  foreboding  lays 
Its  chill  hand  on  my  heart,  as  if  I  knew, 
Scorning  the  very  prophecy,  how  few 

Remain  to  us  of  glad  and  glorious  days. 

Though  love  perpetual  as  the  sunlight  seem, 
Let  us  beware  of  love;  all  we  adore 

Lies  in  the  shadow  of  that  self-esteem 
Grown  desperate  of  all  it  suffered  for; 

One  day  you  will  not  clasp  me  in  your  dream, 
Neither  shall  I  remember  any  more. 


[25] 


HELEN 
For  G.  H.  T. 

Again  the  voices  of  the  hunting  horns, 
Blown  from  the  new  moon,  low  upon  the  hills, 
And  the  cold  splendour  of  the  evening  star. 

0  Beauty,  I  have  been  thy  votary,  hung 
The  temple  of  my  life  with  offerings — 
Ever  a  vagrant  after  thy  vanishing  feet, 

In  those  fair  days  and  far  when  youth  was  mine. 
Even  now,  left  lonely  at  the  end  of  life, 

1  seem  to  hear  your  voice  upon  the  winds, 
Behold  you  rising  from  the  sunlit  sea 

Once  more,  to  make  all  men  your  worshippers; 
Yet,  goddess,  spare  them  love  like  mine,  lest  love 
Fall  ever  on  such  sullen  days  as  these! 

To-morrow  is  as  yesterday;  to-day 
No  nearer  than  the  morning  when  there  stood 
In  Leda's  palace,  asking  for  this  hand, 
Tall  Menelaus  with  his  yellow  hair; 

[26] 


HELEN 

No  nearer,  now,  than  the  first  time  these  hands 

Dared  linger  in  caress  upon  the  curls 

Of  him  whose  dark  eyes  laughed  their  love  to  mine. 

'Tis  only  as  if  one  short,  restless  sleep 

Lay  over  the  wide  chasm  of  the  years 

Beyond  which  are  lost  faith  and  ruined  Troy. 

The  night  wind  brings,  as  twenty  summers  since, 

The  silver-breasted  swallows  from  the  Nile, 

To  quiet  Sparta,  nestled  in  her  hills, 

Locked  inland  from  the  voices  of  the  sea; 

And  far  across  the  porticoes  I  hear 

The  ivory  shuttle  singing  in  the  loom 

Midst  maidens*  chatter,  as  in  olden  days; 

And  still  men  murmur  as  they  pass  me  by: 

"Lo,  look  on  her,  the  wonder  of  the  world, 

Helen,  that  would  have  been  the  Trojan  queen!" 

I  watch  them  fix  their  eyes  upon  my  face 

As  they  would  keep  it  in  their  memory 

For  ever,  and  the  very  while  they  gaze, 

I  see  the  flames  of  Troy  gleam  in  their  eyes. 

I  think  sometimes  I  have  already  passed 

Into  the  kingdom  of  untroubled  death, 

Where  wandering  lonely  amongst  them  I  knew 

In  Hellas,  or  where  Troy  looked  on  the  sea, 

[27] 


HELEN 

Behold  each  shadow,  as  it  passes  by, 

Shrink,  half  involuntarily,  and  turn, 

To  veil  its  face  and  vanish  in  the  gloom. 

Whilst  out  of  that  dim  distance  whence  my  steps 

Are  moving  and  to  which  they  shall  return 

After  an  interval  of  endless  years, 

There  comes  a  voice  that  hails  me  from  afar: 

"Art  thou  not  Helen,  dowered  of  the  gods 

With  all  that  men  can  covet?   Wert  thou  not 

Created  the  most  beautiful  of  earth 

And  is  not  beauty  wisdom,  wisdom  power? 

What  hast  thou  done  with  their  almighty  gift?" 

And  then,  ere  I  would  answer,  silence  falls 

Around  me,  and  the  dark  divides,  and  I 

See  the  blue  twilight  on  the  Spartan  hills. 


28 


MOUNTAIN  LAUREL 


Why  should  I  suddenly  remember  you, 

Here,  whilst  I  gather  laurel  in  these  mountains? 

Were  you  not  lying  dead — 

Far-off  in  that  forgotten  land — 

I,  of  all  men,  would  scarce  occur  to  you, 

Whose  passing  cost  me 

Rather  a  dread  of  fate,  than  sense  of  pain. 

The  thought  is  folly:  dead  men  would  remember 

Only  with  laughter. 

Only  with  laughter,  light  as  ever  the  winds. 


II 

Insistently  memory  returns: 

Starlight,  grey  plains,  brown  cities  of  tents, 

And  our  chatter  of  life. 

How  I  mocked  the  stern  vision  of  duty 

Spreading  its  giant  wings 

[29[ 


MOUNTAIN  LAUREL 


To  shadow  our  souls: 

I  told  you  the  feet  of  men, 

Following  after  fate,  are  the  sport  of  the  gods- 

Now  you  are  dead, 

And  I  live,  and  I  gather  me  laurel! 


Ill 

Of  old  this  was  given  to  beauty, 

To  heroes,  to  dreamers  of  dreams — 

Now  it  is  nothing  but  laurel, 

I  crowd  it  into  my  arms, 

I,  who  loved  life,  and  still  love; 

Forgive  me: 

Only  short  of  desire  is  it  bitter  to  die. 


IV 

Look  with  me  westward ;  over  this  highway  came 

Saints,  warriors,  fathers  of  nations, 

Straining  credulous  eyes 

Into  their  promised  land. 

Look  with  me  westward;  laugh  with  me  at  the  Babel, 

[30] 


MOUNTAIN  LAUREL 

Those  witless  hands  have  created; 

Not  thus  shall  ye  ever  attain, 

O  dust  of  the  dust, 

Ye  who  scourge  gods, 

Who  take  counsel  with  wandering  stars. 


Thus  have  I  suddenly  remembered  you, 
Knee-deep  in  laurel  fields  amid  these  mountains, 
Where  winds  blow  westward  from  the  lips  of  dawn- 
Fearful,  to  feel  your  eyelids  open  on  me. 


31 


FROM  A  GARDEN 

Now  even  is  the  drowsy  time  of  cities: 
Smoke  drifting  out  under  the  stars; 
Streets  restless,  but  silent. 

Here,  from  the  cloister  of  this  garden, 

Deep  in  the  purple  well  of  night 

Walled  with  the  elms  like  shadows  of  vast  fountains 

Bursting  against  the  sky, 

I  listen  down  the  wind 

For  the  faint  voice  of  summer. 

With  silence  comes  the  memory  of  fate, 
And  dread,  with  solitude, 
Ever  to  men  who  dwell 
In  cities  of  men. 

This  night,  I  know,  the  moon  is  on  those  mountains 

Where  I  stood,  long  ago, 

With  nothing  but  the  waking  song  of  wind — 


32] 


FROM  A  GARDEN 

With  cities  strewn 

Like  spider-webs  of  stars  along  the  plain. 

Here,  in  the  dusk, 

A  shadow  more  than  night  is  on  my  heart ! 


33  3 


LIBATION 

I 

Unto  the  gods  I  have  poured  out  the  lees: 

Drunk  to  myself  the  draughts  of  living  wine; 
Thirsting  as  one  that  comes  from  desolate  seas 
Restless  and  scarred  with  foam, 
Tasting  in  stinging  winds,  bitter  with  brine, 
Hunger  for  home. 


II 

Light  have  I  seen — and  light  has  left  me  blind; 

Angels  of  sudden  strength  have  vanquished  me; 
Hope  was  my  altar  until  laughter  twined 
Slowly  around  my  heart, 
Fingers  I  strangely  knew  would  never  be 
Twisted  apart. 


[34] 


LIBATION 


III 


Over  the  waters  of  their  deep  embrace, 

Mountains  have  cast  blue  shafts  of  shadow,  now 
Twilight  and  summer  falter  face  to  face; 
Knowing  what  dreams  would  dare, 
Scornful  of  undiscovered  days,  I  vow 
Wine  to  despair. 


35 


INVOCATION 

I 

Swift,  beautiful  god  of  all  beauty  that  gave 

Love  unto  life,  for  a  fire, 
Lithe-limbed  leader  of  them  that  are  brave 

In  desire, 
With  eyes  of  the  lightning,  with  jubilant,  thunderous 
lyre; 


II 

Dread,  merciless  god  to  whom  pity  were  fear, 

Lover  of  laughter  and  light, 
Giant-winged  deity,  soaring  up  sheer 

Out  of  night, 
From  tumult  of  chaos  that  swells  with  the  surge  of 
your  flight; 


36 1 


INVOCATION 


III 


Proud,  fatal-eyed  foeman  whose  arrows  disdain 

All  but  the  serpents  that  keep 
Strong-walled  guard  at  the  altars  of  pain, 

In  the  deep 
Impassable  forests  of  twilight,  and  ruin,  and  sleep. 


IV 

Warm  blood  of  our  sacrifice  smokes  at  your  knees, 

Chaliced  in  foam  at  your  choice; 
Calm-browed  god,  from  all  lands,  from  all  seas, 

At  your  voice, 
We  tremble  to  wait  you,  till  touched  of  your  wings, 
we  rejoice. 


[37] 


STARLIGHT 

I 

Strange  that  the  eager  heart  should  burn 
So  brief  a  space  with  doubtful  fire, 

Till,  flaring  suddenly,  it  turn 
To  dust,  devoid  of  all  desire; 

Out  of  a  world  conceived  of  flame, 

Drift  back  toward  darkness  whence  it  came, 


II 


Roaming  as  men  will,  to  and  fro 
Over  the  earth,  our  spirits  seek 

The  very  fruits  and  flowers  that  blow 
With  beauty  of  the  dust,  and  speak 

Veiled  words  of  warning  that  impart 

Their  hint  of  penance  for  the  heart. 

[38] 


STARLIGHT 


III 


Ever  to  some  our  faces  seem 

Fleeter  than  shapes  of  shadows  are: 

Lost  in  the  subtleties  of  dream, 
Wanderers  on  a  dying  star, 

Threading  its  labyrinths,  to  find 

Escape  for  the  despairing  mind. 


IV 

Voiceless,  aloof  they  dwell  alone, 
Brooding  upon  their  vision,  stand 

Like  proud,  impassive  gods  of  stone 

Careless  which  stars  may  fade,  which  fanned 

To  splendour  in  the  trackless  skies, 

Gleam  on  the  granite  of  their  eyes. 


[39 


STARLIGHT 


Jubilant,  though  all  thought  in  vain 
Sound  in  the  void  of  echoing  deeps, 

Some  walk  with  passions  that  disdain 
Whatever  fate  the  future  keeps 

Hidden  beyond  to  lure  them  far, 

Like  homeless  winds,  from  star  to  star. 


VI 

Their  feet  are  swift  and  shod  with  light; 

Of  vagrant  flowers  each  twists  his  crown; 
Their  eyes  are  song — before  their  sight 

The  mountains  tremble  and  bow  down; 
Till  death  abandon  his  abyss 
And  seal  their  triumph  with  a  kiss. 


40] 


A  GREEK 

Cunningly  chiseled 

Into  the  intricate  beauty  of  exquisite  thought; 

Skin  polished  smooth  as  if  to  tempt  the  touch, 

Sinews  suspended — 

Caught  in  the  careless  grace  of  the  pride  of  a  god; 

Lithe  neck  and  sentient  lips,  and  close-cropped  curls. 

Huge,  smoky  windows, 
Shafts  of  hesitant  sunlight, 
Cautious  footsteps. 

Blank  marble  eyes 
Wide  with  wonder, 
Seeing  these  sons  of  God. 


[41] 


NEITH 

Somehow  the  spirit  of  that  day — 

Rain-clouded  streets  and  brooding  air — 
Determined  me  to  live  and  dare, 

Living,  to  laugh  the  world  away. 

As  in  a  crystal  dreamers  see, 

Out  of  unwinding  mists,  arise 

The  splendours  of  some  paradise 
Woven  of  gold  and  ivory; 

Deep  in  the  globe  of  thought  I  saw 

Dawn  from  the  tempestuous  dust,  that  form 
Toward  which  the  endless  ages  storm 

Uproarious — to  break  with  awe. 

Of  all  things  ignorant,  yet  wise, 
Sitting  enthroned  at  life's  last  goal, 
Dividing  body  from  the  soul, 

Looking  at  each  with  flameless  eyes. 

[42] 


NEITH 

Immutable,  unknown,  unsung, 
Through  triumph  and  delight  unearned, 
Through  sorrow  undeserved,  I  learned 
Salvation  from  thy  wordless  tongue. 

Then,  flying  the  embracing  gloom 
Of  burnt-out  days  and  parched  desire 
I  built  my  soul  an  altar  fire 

Of  laughter  in  the  face  of  doom. 


43 


AUTUMN 

Hoarse,  cynic  voices  through  the  woods, 
A  glitter  of  black  wings, 
Webs  of  grey  mist  winding  about  the  hills, 
And  all  the  world  aflame. 

Wild  as  this  redolent  splendour 

Grows  my  desire; 

Famished  and  faint  at  the  feast  of  life, 

I  yet  would  have  all  in  my  dreams, 

Power,  and  wisdom,  and  beauty 

Gathered  into  these  arms — 

And  now  another  autumn  is  upon  me. 

Unto  the  last  shall  endure 

Pride  to  break  free, 

To  be  strong; 

Unto  the  last  of  ail  light, 

These  sallow  skies  are  ablaze — 

Life,  too,  is  encircled  with  fire. 


44 


THALASSA 

I 

They  have  turned  to  the  lure  of  the  sea  again 

With  the  salt  wind  each  in  his  face; 
They  have  come  from  the  way  of  the  mountains, 
like  men 
Whose  power  would  go 
Unto  waters  to  know 
Of  the  touch  of  the  sea  that  is  grace. 


II 

They  have  come  to  the  sea  from  the  strength  of  the 
hills 
From  the  lair  of  the  winds,  where  the  strong 
Unchangeable  silence  of  starlight  instils 
Desire  in  the  heart 
For  the  uttermost  part 
Of  the  sea,  that  is  ancient  of  song. 

[4Sl 


THALASSA 


III 


Their  dreams  are  of  visions  where  mountains  are  one 

With  the  way  of  the  sea  they  shall  keep; 
Their  thoughts,  like  the  waters,  would  follow  the  sun 
To  the  arms  of  the  sea, 
And  yet  ever  would  be 
In  the  arms  of  the  hills,  in  their  sleep. 


IV 

Of  those  who  go  down  from  the  hills  to  the  sea 

With  the  path  of  the  winds  for  their  feet, 
The  last  long  home  of  the  heart  of  me, 
Were  a  land  that  lies 
In  the  lap  of  the  skies, 
Where  the  sea  and  the  mountains  meet. 


us 


A  PHILOSOPHER 

Twilight,  his  hunting  ground  of  thought, 
Found  him  with  candles  lighted, 
Drawn  blinds,  and  blazing  fire. 

Only  in  the  grey  tumult  of  cities 
He  doubted  the  purpose  of  man: 
Covetous  lips  and  lewd  eyes, 
Were  these  the  hunger  of  God  ? 

With  nightfall  he  laughed  at  his  fear 
And  walked  with  the  saints — 
Once  he  was  tucked  in  bed; 

Yet  wakened,  sometimes, 
To  the  noise  of  winds. 


[47] 


APRIL  NIGHT 

Because  my  face  has  been  a  mask — 
My  tongue  a  laggard  where  alarms 

Of  life  are  loudest,  would  I  ask 
Deep  sanctuary  of  your  arms. 

Because  of  them  who  scorn  to  hear 
Because  of  eyes  that  could  not  see, 

I  turn  to  you  who  are  most  dear 
Unto  the  hidden  heart  of  me. 

This  trinket  cross  that  cools  my  throat, 
I  kiss,  lest  futile  things  of  speech, 

Unwary  deed,  song  out  of  note, 

Mock  at  the  stars  I  would  not  reach. 

I  trust  your  quiet  love  shall  send 
To  gaudy  life  and  death  such  peace 

As  waits  for  worlds  to  make  an  end, 
As  tells  the  upstart  suns  to  cease. 


48 


ELEGY 

How  else  than  thus  with  song 

Should  men  take  leave  of  you — 

How  else  than  to  be  glad  that  you  are  dead — 

No  longer  shall  pursue 

Their  panic-stricken  throng 

With  locks  of  lightning  round  your  gorgon  head  ? 

Tempest  grey  clouds  would   know  your  dauntless 

tread 
Down  any  fearful  sky. 

Pressing  my  heart  to  the  marble  of  your  own, 

I  feel  it  turn  to  stone 

With  dread  lest  we  should  meet  when  I  shall  die. 


[49 


EXPECTATION 

Half-opened  eyelids, 

Patches  of  blue  sunlight  in  the  hills, 

Big,  lazy,  braggart  clouds, 

Portentous  asters, 

Crackle  of  the  darting  wings, 

Of  glittering  dragon  flies. 

The  drone  of  summer — 
Windless,  naked  seas. 

Life  cast  into  the  scales  against  your  smile. 


[SO] 


A  TOWER 


I 


I  heard  her  sing  at  eventide 

Sing  when  the  stormy  evening  shed 
An  amber  twilight  far  and  wide, 
Sing  though  her  lover  late  had  died, 

Sing,  in  the  castle  with  the  dead. 


II 


Hers  was  a  purple  mist  of  walls 

And  towers  that  loomed  above  the  plain; 
Nor  torchlit  mirth  of  banquet  halls, 
Nor  woodlands  loud  with  hunting  calls, 

Tempted  this  lady  of  disdain. 


5i 


A  TOWER 


III 


Ever  with  nightfall  would  she  wait, 
Watching  the  winding  royal  road, 
Till  some  fair  warrior,  riding  late, 
Sounded  his  horn  beneath  her  gate, 
Praying  the  boon  of  night's  abode. 


IV 


Wonderful  was  her  way  with  sleep; 

They  who  have  sought  her  castled  crest, 
Lie  in  a  slumber  even  as  deep 
As  theirs  who  never  stir,  but  keep, 

Mindless  of  men,  their  peace  with  rest. 


Rumour  had  given  her  eyes  a  name, 
Woven  of  the  wonder  of  their  guile; 

Her  lips  were  ribbons  of  red  flame; 

Out  of  her  voiceless  laughter  came 
Death  to  the  living  in  a  smile. 


S^ 


A  TOWER 


VI 


How  should  a  lady  wed  with  song, 

Twisting  pale  roses  in  her  hair? 
Deep  though  her  dungeon  be,  and  strong, 
Light  though  her  footstep,  life  is  long 

Even  to  beauty,  everywhere. 

VII 

Slowly  the  story  of  her  face, 

Living  on  lips  that  never  met 
Hers  in  their  life  and  death  embrace, 
Made  of  her  lair  a  pilgrim  place, 
Closed  to  the  world  men  would  forget. 

VIII 

Twain  are  the  gods  whose  love  is  greed 

To  gather  life  with  ruthless  hands : 
Christ,  with  the  cross  where  each  shall  bleed, 
Lust,  with  her  flaming  eyes,  to  lead 

All  who  but  look,  through  doubtful  lands. 

(S3  J 


A  TOWER 


IX 


Singing  she  sits  till  eventide 

Swallow  the  road  where  knights  go  by, 
Waving  a  crimson  scarf,  the  pride 
Of  him  who  late  lay  at  her  side — 

Waving  it  wide  against  the  sky. 


[54] 


A  FIG  TREE 

I 

Murmurous,  at  evening,  over  the  yellow-hilled 

Lone  land  they  came, 

Crowding  about  his  heels  like  timid  sheep, 

Whispering  his  name, 

Peering  at  one  another,  pondering  what  they  heard 

Resolute,  each,  to  keep 

His  every  utterance  as  the  chosen  word. 

Till,  like  a  group  of  vagrant  ghosts,  they  filled 

The  broad  slope  where  he  paused,  full  in  the  flame 

Of  the  scarlet  sunset,  stood  and  never  stirred, 

Brooding — with  feverish  eyes. 

II 

Then  suddenly,  from  somewhere  in  the  crowd, 

They  heard  him  cry  aloud: 

"Shame  to  thy  faith,  fruitless,  unworthy  tree, 

That  canst  not,  even  for  me, 

The  Son  of  God,  hungry,  with  weary  feet, 

Give  anything  to  eat. 

[S5l 


A  FIG  TREE 

For  that  I  came  and  that  thou  didst  not  see, 
Henceforth  for  ever  fruitless  shalt  thou  be!" 
They  watched  him,  speaking,  point  as  at  a  vile 
Unholy  thing — some  thought  they  saw  him  smile. 


Ill 


Light-lipped  is  laughter:  in  a  far-off  age, 

One  turning  his  dim  page, 

Hungry  in  body  and  spirit  for  a  text, 

Paused,  half  perplexed; 

Then  rose,  and  took  upon  him  to  confute — 

For  this  world,  and  the  next — 

All  them  whose  faith  had  yielded  God  no  fruit. 


[56 


EASTER  DAWN 

I 

Now  is  your  altar  desolate : 

Of  the  vain  feet  that  throng  your  shrine 
Only  the  echoing  footfalls  wait 

To  keep  companionship  with  mine. 


II 


How  should  they  ever  hold  you  dear 
Till  life  shall  be  as  love  may  please; 

And  part  the  incense  of  their  fear 
Clouding  the  pity  of  your  knees  ? 

Ill 

Wayward  your  lips  are  still,  as  when 
You  counted  them  least  frugal  of 

The  tenderness  you  taught  to  men, 
Ever  the  eldest  in  your  love. 

[S7l 


EASTER  DAWN 


IV 


Lured  of  your  bleeding  hands  and  feet 
Out  of  the  dead  I  would  arise; 

Gird  on  the  flesh  again,  to  greet 
The  mist  of  acquiescent  eyes. 


Sound  on  the  trumpets :  the  full  moon 
Of  ancient  festival  is  come; 

The  son  of  God  is  dead,  and  soon 
Shall  sanctify  his  martyrdom. 


58] 


THE  PHOENIX 

They  said  the  Phoenix  would  arise, 
Out  of  the  embers  of  its  nest; 

Under  the  welcome  of  their  skies, 
Find  solace  and  abiding  rest. 

Some  listened  for  the  sound  of  wings, 
But  soon  as  ever  pinion  stirred, 

It  seemed  the  most  confounding  things 
Had  been  expected  of  the  bird. 

Till  shrewd  opinion  wondered  whether, 
Considering  the  skeptic  owls, 

It  were  not  well  to  piece  together 
Some  gentle  paragon  of  fowls. 

Despair  fell  to,  and  bit  by  bit, 

From  carcasses  that  failed  to  please, 

Devised  a  creature  that  could  sit 
Most  steadily  in  sheltered  trees. 


59 


THE  PHOENIX 

And  though  it  never  stirs  or  sings, 
Only  the  owls  would  wonder  why 

This  silent  Phoenix  bred  to  wings 

Should  scorn  the  sunlight  and  the  sky. 


60 


AN  ALTAR 


The  past,  the  future  are  as  one  to  you : 

All  we  would  do 

With  worship,  all  amend  with  prayer  or  praise, 

Change  not  your  ways;' 

Smiling  on  who  beseech  you,  who  adore 

Your  name  no  more, 

You  breathe,  with  equal  breath, 

On  life  and  death. 


II 


They  who  have  known  you  best  have  thought  your 

face 

Light's  dwelling  place; 

Have  turned  aside  from  hope  that  they  should  live 

For  love  less  fugitive, 

Till  your  own  dark  and  unrelenting  eyes 

Count  them  more  wise, 

Than  such  as  meekly  wait 

The  voice  of  fate. 

[61] 


AN  ALTAR 


III 


Let  the  feet  falter  or  the  lips  demand 

Help  of  your  hand, 

Life,  hesitant  between  divided  ways, 

Spends  sunless  days 

Deliberate  of  silence,  till  at  last 

The  choice  slip  past 

For  ever,  and  there  remain, 

Pleasure  nor  pain. 


[62] 


GOLDENROD 

I 

On  the  crest  of  this  yellow  surf, 

Like  blue  smoke  in  the  winds, 

From  swift  night  and  the  nearness  of  stars, 

On  wide,  scarlet  wings, 

Has  summer  gone  seaward. 

II 

Out  of  deep  streets  of  cool  sunlight, 
From  closed  doors  and  glittering  windows, 
Passing  with  muffled  voices  and  snatches  of  song, 
From  the  langour  of  cities, 
Into  the  arms  of  the  morning, 
Has  summer  departed. 

Ill 

Through  the  darkness  of  sky-lighted  stairways, 
With  warm  murmurs  of  hidden  laughter, 
They  follow  you  now,  Aphrodite. 

[63] 


EGO 

Ever  with  evening  gather  the  dead  around  me — 

Quietly,  with  deep  eyes — 

Watching  my  mute  surprise, 

Gazing  as  if  their  secrets  would  astound  me, 

Should  they  but  set  their  grey  lips  to  mine  ears — 

Yet  cautious,  lest  strange  fears 

Follow  their  feet  with  noiseless  tread, 

As  out  of  the  shadows  of  forgotten  years 

They  come  to  me — these  unreproachful  dead — 

Come,  calm  with  pride,  seeing  the  future  flower 

Where  once,  in  vanished  days, 

They,  too,  drank  deep  for  joy  of  love  and  power, 

Ere  they  betook  them  to  these  darkened  ways. 

Yet  they  do  never  take  my  hand 

Speaking  to  me,  or  touch  my  blinded  sight — 

I  do  but  idly  stand 

On  this  last  crag  of  land, 

Watching  the  sea  and  sky  turn  gold 

[64] 


EGO 

When  all  the  east,  to-night, 

Is  one  wide  echo  of  light, 

As  if  new  morning  rose  upon  the  old. 

Swift  as  men  pass,  their  feet  are  swifter  yet: 

What  though  we  think  they  sleep, 

They  never  rest,  but  keep 

The  highway  of  the  world,  where  they  are  met 

In  crowded  ways  we  think  the  dead  forget ! 

I  looked  once,  long  ago,  on  light  like  this, 

And  ever  after,  turned 

Unto  the  East,  and  yearned 

To  know  the  mad  enchantment  of  its  kiss, 

To  find  my  home  in  that  abiding  bliss. 

Here  ever  are  we  lost,  ye  pale  immortals. 

With  flaming  wings, 

Out  of  contending  light  and  darkness,  springs 

The  tempest  on  the  sea, 

Whither    the    clouds    fling    back    their    threatening 

portals, 
Throw  their  arms  wide,  as  they  would  welcome  me! 

Gloucester,  191 7. 


65 


AT  ''MADAM  BUTTERFLY" 

Come,  gather  me  into  your  arms: 
Tears  strain  at  my  heart 
As  the  moon  at  the  tides  of  the  sea; 
Come,  gather  me  into  your  arms, 
And  to  peace. 

Look :   they  who  would  love  should  be  proud : 

Should  despise,  nor  remember,  remorse  or  despair; 

Go  out  unto  sorrow  with  a  song, 

And  follow  the  winds 

Into  the  heart  of  the  sun; 

Like  music  their  foot-falls, 

Like  laughter  the  pulse  of  their  hearts. 

Taking  less  of  such  love,  men  shall  die. 
But  we  who  are  fugitive 
Over  the  world  from  all  passion  but  peace, 
Still  hunger  for  rest  in  your  arms. 


[66] 


SEA  BURIAL 

Close  over  him,  faithful  of  death  to  keep 

This  last  poor  vigil  where  he  lies  alone; 

Close  over  him.' 

When  life  is  hope,  and  gods  are  gone  to  sleep, 

Devotion  unto  worship  shall  atone; 

Now  that  his  eyes  are  cold  and  dim, 

Close  over  him! 

Who  else  should  ask  for  him  as  we  rejoice 

And  crowd  the  decks  where  the  exultant  land 

Smells  sweet  and  near. 

Lost  in  our  laughter  were  one  feeble  voice; 

For  him  the  deathless  sea  holds  out  her  hand; 

For  him  to  whom  no  thing  is  dear, 

Smells  sweet  and  near. 


67 


POPPIES 


Footsteps  soft  as  fall  the  rose's 

Petals  on  a  dewy  lawn, 
Shaken  when  the  wind  uncloses 

Golden  gateways  for  the  dawn. 

Laughter  light  as  is  the  swallows' 
Chatter  in  the  evening  sky, 

Wafted  upward  from  the  hollows 
Where  the  limpid  waters  lie. 

Weeping  faint  as  is  the  willow's 
By  the  margin  of  the  lake, 

Trembling  into  tiny  billows 

That  the  silent  teardrops  make. 

Phantoms  fitful  and  uncertain 
As  the  pearly  autumn  rain 

Sweeping  on  in  cloudy  curtain 
Down  the  wide  way  of  the  plain. 

[68] 


POPPIES 


II 


Oh,  unhappy  now  to  waken 

When  the  dream  had  scarce  begun! 
Out  of  gentle  twilight  taken 

Into  realms  of  burning  sun. 

Oh,  unhappy  now  to  find  me 

Lost  'neath  heavens  hot  with  noon; 

All  that  fairyland  behind  me : 
Poppy  fields  and  rising  moon! 

Drawbridge  and  portcullis  screeching 
Bugles  braying  soon  and  late — 

Who  are  they  that  come  beseeching, 
Calling  at  my  castle  gate  ? 

Drive  them  hence,  for  they  encumber 
Days  and  nights  with  waking  pain 

Tell  them  that  I  lie  in  slumber 
Under  poppies  wet  with  rain. 


[69] 


POPPIES 

Who  art  thou  that  kneelest  weeping 
By  the  border  of  my  bed  ? 

Cease  thou,  for  I  was  but  sleeping — 
Dreaming,  only,  and  not  dead. 


Ill 


Phantoms  flitting  and  uncertain 
Sweeping  round  the  endless  plain; 

Autumn  twilight's  dusky  curtain, 
Drowsy  poppies,  drenched  with  rain, 


70] 


WINE 

Idly  as  gleaming  bubbles  rise 

Like  globes  of  sunlight  in  this  glass, 
As  idly  even  do  men  pass, 

A  light  of  wonder  in  their  eyes. 

Though  beauty  lure  them,  love  be  strong, 
Though  from  lost  lands  they  turn  their  feet, 
They  come  and  go,  with  hearts  that  beat 

Respondent  to  the  surge  of  song. 

Never  is  life  or  death  too  soon; 
Never  too  late;  they  ebb  and  flow 
As  sleepless  tides  that  yearn  to  know 

The  amorous  mastery  of  the  moon. 


[?i 


A  HERO 

I  had  put  by 

Your  jewelled  memory, 
Thinking:  though  he  should  die, 

Sorrow  would  be 

Like  mirth,  for  me. 

Now,  one  by  one, 

I  count  our  days  apart, 
Finger  your  cold,  fine-spun, 

Intricate  art, 

Here  at  my  heart. 

Let  love  lay  waste 

From  bitter  sky  to  sky, 

Else  with  autumnal  haste, 
Even  as  I, 
Wither  and  die. 


[72] 


OASIS 

Come  close  his  eyes  and  cross  his  hands 
Like  to  a  saint's  above  his  breast. 

So  let  him  smile:  he  understands 
The^itterness  of  life's  last  jest; 

That  one  a  stranger  to  all  lands 
So  quietly  should  deign  to  rest. 

Over  the  desert  shall  they  go, 

Over  the  desert  and  alight 
Where  golden  tents  reflect  the  glow 

Of  evening  in  the  depth  of  night. 

If  he  had  smiled  as  one  who  said, 
Farewell  for  ever  unto  men, 

We  had  not  loitered  at  his  bed 
Avoiding  other  eyes,  as  then; 

We  had  not  hoped  that,  being  dead, 
His  like  should  never  live  again. 


[73 


OASIS 

Over  the  desert  have  they  gone 

Over  the  desert  into  night; 
They  tarry  till  the  kiss  of  dawn 

Shall  lure  them  forward  in  their  flight. 


[74] 


A  MEMORY 

Strange  that  on  warp  and  woof  of  dreams 
Fancy  should  weave  the  web  of  truth, 

And  yet  this  airy  figment  seems 
Part  of  that  half-forgotten  youth, 

Stolen  from  days  I  thought  were  sped 

Out  of  the  world — beyond  the  dead. 

Smiled  she  not  so  when  down  the  edge 

Of  evening  we  walked  alone, 
Hunting  her  flowers  from  hedge  to  hedge 

That  she  might  wear  them  as  her  own— 
Or  do  I  hold  a  hopeless  tryst, 
Here  with  a  shadow  shaped  from  mist? 

Even  as  will  crumpled  rose  leaves  pent 
By  fingers  we  can  never  know, 

Rouse  with  the  richness  of  their  scent 
Thoughts  of  a  summer  long  ago: 

All  the  expanse  of  land  and  sea 

Speaks  in  a  thousand  tongues  to  me. 


75 


A  MEMORY 

Over  this  coast  of  cliffs  would  form — 
Sprung  from  the  ocean's  frosty  breath — 

The  blue-grey  ramparts  of  the  storm, 
Flashing  with  signal-fires  of  death; 

Whilst  with  a  murmur,  far  and  wide 

Swept  in  the  low  wind  with  the  tide. 

Often,  at  last,  when  hearts  were  dumb 
With  fear  of  parting,  would  we  wend 

Our  way  through  meadow  lanes  that  come 
From  nowhere  and  in  nothing  end, 

Kissing  until  our  hearts  could  please 

To  flout  the  rumour-haunted  trees. 

Till  innocent  as  any  day, 

One  casual  to  other  men, 
Marked  for  her  feet  a  separate  way, 

Whither  love  turns  not  back  again: 
Lured  of  oblivious  twilight,  spun 
Of  meshes  of  the  wind  and  sun. 


[76 


A  MEMORY 

But  is  there  any  heart  can  keep 
Its  vigil  with  the  voiceless  dead  ? 

What  if  the  spirit,  waked  from  sleep, 
Never  recall  the  words  it  said? 

Dwell  in  forgetfulness,  or  be 

Lost,  in  a  last  eternity? 


I  77 


WARRIORS 

Here,  for  the  marvel  of  the  crowd, 
They  put  you  as  if  death  were  proud 
Of  honour,  and  would  cry  aloud 

All  that  the  vanished  flesh  has  done. 
Yet,  facing  some  of  us,  you  seem 
To  look  on  men  as  from  a  dream, 
Careless  of  whether  they  should  deem 

All  that  you  died  for,  lost  or  won. 

Pride  such  as  yours  would  scorn  acclaim 
Fawning  your  praise  to  gaudy  fame, 
Telling  the  story  it  were  shame 

To  look  on  you,  and  not  surmise. 
Would  you  from  death,  I  wonder,  dare 
Once  more  to  venture — even  care  ? 
You  look — and  fate  lets  fall  her  hair 

Over  the  answer  in  your  eyes. 


78 


IPSWICH  DUNES 

I 

Would  I  might  tell  you,  "Comrade,  fare  you  well 
Into  the  darkness  whither  you  have  gone"; 

Bid  you  Godspeed,  certain  such  spirits  dwell 
In  lands  where  light  were  like  eternal  dawn. 

Over  these  dunes  with  the  last  breath  of  day 
Loiters  the  twilight  as  a  lingering  friend, 
Lets  fall  his  hand  to  turn  away  from  me — 

Touches  these  twisted  strands  of  green  and  grey 
To  lonesome  splendour,  such  as  seems  to  lend 
A  glory  to  this  land  at  summer's  end, 
An  anguish  to  the  silence  of  the  sea. 

II 

If  ever  we  could  love  them  who  are  sped, 
Out  of  the  world  with  swift  and  trackless  feet, 

I  should  have  known  your  England  from  my  bed, 
In   fields   of  poppies   sown   through   deep,   green 
wheat; 

[79] 


IPSWICH  DUNES 

Should  scarce  have  lived  those  days  as  one  who  made, 
A  pilgrimage  toward  some  unwonted  shrine, 
And  all  unknowing  passed  it  by  the  way, 

Forgetful  on  those  hills  with  swallows  strayed, 
Through  evening  delicate  as  amber  wine, 
Where  once  you  walked,  or  ever  breath  were  mine, 
Whither  I  came,  and  you  long  lost  from  day. 


Ill 

You  who  have  gone  a  troubled  way  with  song, 

Scorn  who  would  honour  you  and  who  forget. 
Their  foolish  tears  spare  you  no  pang  of  wrong: 

Their  praise  has  never  lightened  sorrow  yet. 
Stretched  on  these  dunes — white  sand,  sweet-smelling 
bay, 
I  think  I  taste  the  draught  of  your  disdain — 
Only  what  you  have  told  of  Beauty,  we, 
Who  love  you  best  remember — turn  away 
From  idle  fancy  and  your  age-old  vain 
Unprofitable  comradeship  with  pain, 
On  wings  of  light,  wings  that  desire  the  sea. 

[80] 


ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

As  twilight  with  a  whisper  touched  the  sea, 
Trailing  the  waters  with  her  veil  of  grey, 
Wave-worn  and  weary  of  the  ocean,  we 
Saw  land  against  the  very  heart  of  day; 
Half-hidden  in  the  afterglow,  it  lay 
On  the  horizon  like  a  lazy  cloud 
Its  coasts  encompassed  with  long  lines  of  spray; 
We  spread  the  sails  until  the  ship  had  ploughed 
Unto  the  purple  waters  where  the  surf  sang  loud. 

Between  the  cliffs  by  the  faint  stars  we  found 

A  gate  of  thunder — boldly  sailing  in 

Watched  the  dark  mountains  slowly  closing  round, 

Hearing  hoarse  echoes  of  the  ocean's  din 

Melt  into  spirit  voices,  fleet  and  thin; 

When,  even  as  we  cast  our  anchor  nigh 

Unto  the  hills  where  only  night  had  been, 

A  city  of  gold  rose  suddenly  on  high 

Like  to  the  yellow  light  of  morning  in  the  sky. 

[81] 


ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

As  if  a  god  should  take  the  skies  for  loom 
Weaving  with  warp  and  woof  of  living  fire, 
So  dawned  our  vision  on  those  hills  of  gloom, 
Breathing  a  gale  of  music  like  desire: 
Grave,  deep-toned  trumpets,  a  triumphant  lyre 
Surging  in  answer  to  the  songs  of  men. 
We  grasped  our  oars — but  as  the  stars  expire 
To  the  kiss  of  day  that  splendour  paled,  and  when 
Last  we  looked   back,  those  mountains  slumbered 
with  night  again. 


82] 


DEPARTURE 

Bring  me,  this  evening,  crimson  wine 
Such,  as  in  twilight,  seems  to  keep 

Secrets  of  death  in  serpentine 
Sinuous  sleep. 

Here  will  I  drink  my  toast  to-night, 
Over  this  voiceless,  storm-swept  sea, 

Bask  in  my  pleasure,  ere  delight 
Vanish  from  me. 

Till  the  sea  swallow  earth,  at  last, 
These  lips  of  memory  shall  make 

A  whispering  gallery  of  the  past, 
Love,  for  your  sake. 


[83] 


LORRAINE 

Westward  lies  home;  my  heart  goes  out  to  the  west, 
Lured  to  the  memory  of  other  skies, 
Longs  for  the  haven  where  its  wings  shall  rest 
Over  against  the  slumber  of  the  west, 
Over  against  the  night,  with  quiet  eyes. 

Eastward  and  westward  through  these  hills  have  gone 
Conquerors  proudly  since  the  world  was  young; 
Faces  that  blanched  and  faltered  in  the  dawn, 
Only  a  memory,  once  they  were  gone, 
Only  a  memory — and  songs  unsung. 

They  who  have  known  this  fatal  land,  and  died: 
Felt  the  throat  thicken  and  the  tired  heart  cease, 
Dreaming  that  death  would  leave  them  thus,  wide- 
eyed, 
Touched  with  the  vanity  of  them  who  died 

That  Christ  should  find  their  martyrdom  his 
peace. 

Ville  au  Val,  France 
October,  191 8. 

[84] 


AUTUMN  EVENING 

Blown  like  the  dust  across  my  way, 
There  came  and  went  as  shadows  do, 

A  phantom  on  the  dusk  of  day, 

A  mask  with  laughter  looking  through. 

Vision  of  memorable  eyes, 

Haunted  by  your  regretful  feet, 

I  pass  you  still,  as  ever  skies 
Of  sundown  flood  this  silent  street. 

Teach  me  the  chaste,  unchosen  art, 
Scorning  the  hope  of  bended  knees, 

To  brush,  like  midnight,  from  my  heart, 
The  terror  of  untravelled  seas. 

Then  were  the  breath  of  God  a  flame, 
To  light  the  life  his  love  would  give, 

Not  leave  the  lips  that  lisp  his  name, 
Cold,  and  forever  fugitive. 

[8S] 


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